15. Cody
TWELVE YEARS OLD
FIFTEEN
"Beat you by a landslide, sucker!" Ryder shouted as he jumped onto the bottom step of Cody's front door stoop.
Cody came barreling to give a shove to Ryder, pushing him off the step and planting himself there, cracking up as he claimed, "Doesn't look like you won to me, now, does it?"
"Ah, you jerk!" Ryder pushed him back, hard enough to send Cody toppling to the grass. "I totally got here first, and you know it. You're such a cheater, Cody."
Cody grabbed Ryder's arm and sent him falling, too, and in an instant, they were wrestling around, the race forgotten in favor of being the one to get the pin. It didn't take much for Cody to get on top, his arm across Ryder's chest to keep his back glued to the lawn.
Ryder might have been crazy fast on his long, skinny legs, but Cody was at least double the size of his best friend, so in wrestling, Ryder wasn't close to being his match.
Cody shouted, "One. Two. Three," as he smacked his free hand in time against the ground considering it only took one of them for Cody to keep hold of Ryder, counting down as Ryder thrashed below his hold, struggling to get free.
"Pinned." Cody boomed it. He jumped onto his feet and threw his fists in the air, pumping his arms as he showboated his victory. "I am the champion."
Ryder kicked out, catching Cody at the ankles, dropping him right to his knees on the ground. That time it was Ryder's turn to howl with laughter. "Got you, asshole."
"Freaking cheap shot."
"No different than the cheap shot you took. I totally kicked your butt in that race."
Cody couldn't help but smile, and he climbed to his feet and stretched out a hand to help Ryder pop onto his feet. "Like I even had a chance of keeping up with you. Pretty sure when you get on the track team, you're going to break every record ever set."
Ryder shrugged a little. "Maybe. At least you're allowed to play football. My mom said no way because I'm gonna get crunched."
"I woulda protected you," Cody said, swiping the dirt off his pants since his mom scolded them every time they came in the house dragging in mud, and the last thing Cody wanted was his mom working harder than she already did.
Cody was bummed Ryder wasn't allowed to be on the team, but they'd already tried to talk Ryder's mom into it, and she wouldn't budge.
"It's fine. I'm going to be going to Seattle to visit my cousin Caleb, so I would have missed a bunch of games, anyway."
Cody threw a light punch to Ryder's shoulder. "Lucky ass."
Ryder shrugged again, smug, saying, "Don't need to be jealous," as he tossed open Cody's front door.
They were struck with the scent of sugar and dough and warmth.
Ryder inhaled, his black eyes going wide. "Chocolate chip cookies. My favorite."
Dakota was always in the kitchen, baking up a storm, and Cody had half a mind that the only reason Ryder came over was to get a taste.
Case in point: Ryder beelined across the living room and disappeared through the arch to the kitchen without looking back.
Grinning, Cody trudged down the hall toward the bedrooms and dumped his backpack on his bedroom floor.
He stepped back out into the hall to head for the kitchen, though he paused, unease skittering over his skin when he heard muffled sounds coming from his mom's bedroom.
Soft sobs that were buried in what he was sure was a hand.
A ball of rocks lodged at the base of his throat, and he quietly edged that direction, pausing where his mom's bedroom door was barely cracked open. He peeked in through the slit and saw his mom sitting on the side of the bed holding onto a piece of paper, tears streaking hot down her face.
Sadness blasted him, like a furnace he was standing next to right in the middle of the summer, and that spot in his chest pressed hard. The spot that kept getting bigger and bigger every time he heard his mom crying like this.
He pushed open the door, and the old hinges creaked.
His mom's head popped up, and she swiped frantically at the moisture soaking her face like she could hide that she'd been crying.
But Cody knew.
He could hear her at night.
Could hear her during the day when she thought no one was listening.
Or maybe he just felt it. Sensed it down in that place where he'd tucked that promise that he'd made his father.
He crept up close to his mother. He already knew what she was looking at. The rest of them were spread out on her mattress.
Bills and bills.
Lots of them marked in red.
"I'm fine, Cody. Go on and give me a minute."
His mom's face was splotchy and red, the color of her eyes almost as drab as the brown of her hair. It made his stomach sick that she looked…old.
Like the years were going too fast.
"Stay right here, Mom. I'll be right back."
"Cody," she called after him as he hurried out of her room and into his. He dropped to his knees on the ratty carpet and looked under the dresser where he kept the box. He grabbed it and jogged back into her room.
He lifted the lid. "There's a hundred and fifty dollars in here."
He'd been mowing lawns for the last year and saving up. It was supposed to be for a new bike, but he already had one, and he knew his mom needed this money way more than he did.
It was selfish to keep it for himself.
Grief curled across his momma's face, and she cried harder. "Oh, Cody, my sweet, sweet boy. You don't have to worry. I'm going to figure this out. It's not your responsibility."
His father's voice echoed through his mind.
You're a good boy. Take care of your momma and your sisters.
"I'm going to take care of you, Mom. Always."
Sorrow blistered, and she set a shaking hand on his cheek. "Cody. I'm your mom and I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you. I'm sorry you saw me like this. It's not a big deal. I've got it covered. I just…got a little stressed."
He glanced down at the sheet she'd been holding.
It was the sheet he'd brought home from football practice with the cost of the uniform. He was supposed to bring the money to tomorrow's practice.
His stomach sank.
Hit the floor like a big boulder.
Because he knew what he had to do.